


Second Worst

by hithelleth



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, One-Sided Relationship, Unrequited, repressed feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:44:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1346215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hithelleth/pseuds/hithelleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles reflects on his feelings for Charlie and why he does what he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Worst

You fucked up.

Nothing new. You always fuck up.

You didn’t really have any other option. (It sounds bitter even when you say it to yourself.)

But really, what could you have done?

You glance at Charlie from the corner of your eye. You know she notices it, even though she doesn’t show it. You know it, because _you_ taught her to observe. You know it just as you know that the smile she flashes at Connor is fake and full of sarcasm. The kid doesn’t, of course.

You roll your eyes. A mistake, as by doing so you intercept Rachel’s questioning gaze. You give her a “What?” look and shrug before taking another swig from the bottle in your hand.

The whisky burns down your throat. You wish it could burn away everything.

You should’ve never left Chicago. Should’ve waited for more of the militia to come and made them kill you. Shouldn’t have let yourself be played into the possibility of salvaging some remnant of ‘goodness’ within – that is, if you had ever had any – by the notion of ‘family’.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have ruined her. Taught her to kill, to not care, to be you.

When _you_ are the last person anyone should be, least of all her.

And now you’re ruining her further, hurting her – you know you are: every time you ignore her, every time you bitch about something she did wrong (although she didn’t, really).

What she doesn’t know is that it hurts you, too.

Because you love her.

It started with a spark of lust when she walked into your joint in Chicago with that sweet innocent face, before she said who she was.

Your niece. Your _daughter_ , maybe. Yeah, you are not _that_ bad at Math. But you have never asked Rachel and you never will.

(As if it couldn’t be wrong enough as it is. A knot of disgust with yourself coils inside your stomach, and you wash it down with more whiskey.)

It would be easier if it was just lust. (Easier to be a monster, to succumb to it.)

That was all it was, lust, you were trying to convince yourself for some time, all the while you were falling harder and harder for her stubborn idealism, fearlessness and courage, vulnerability and strength until you couldn’t stand it anymore, couldn’t stand watching her losing herself because of you and yet loving her for it still more.

That was why you let her go, hoping she would find herself out there, hoping the distance would obliterate all of it, that with enough time apart you could forget, stop feeling it.

(And, what a terrible thought: maybe just a part of you – that not so deep dark part of you – was hoping she wouldn’t come back at all.)

Rachel was there, needing you, and it seemed a good idea to focus on the fragments of those old, not quite forgotten feelings you had once had for her and let them grow back.

And then Charlie came back.

A rush of emotion when you held her again.

Your Charlie.

But she wasn’t yours. Isn’t. Can never be.

And staying away from her and doing the right thing was harder than ever.

So, you latched onto Rachel. Started pulling away from Charlie. All quick glances and harsh words.

She won’t ask you why you’re doing this. Just as well, because you just might break and say or do something that would make her run away, repulsed. And you wouldn’t be able to bear that. (Yes, it easier to see her hurting than her hating you, because you are a bastard, a monster and you always do the stupid, selfish thing.)

Connor stomps away past you and you steal a look in Charlie’s direction.

They may be sleeping together (Yes, you know, though they think you don’t. How stupid do they think you are?), but that’s all there is. Although Connor might be deluded thinking otherwise, you can tell she doesn’t really care for him – not like that. It’s all just _carpe diem_ for her, enjoying the present.

The kid is blind, but you aren’t. Because you know her longer, better.

You saw her when she came back, changed. Colder, tougher, hopeless.

You have seen her fighting beside your best friend (former best friend): all efficiency and ease and perfect symmetry with a way of communicating things to each other you and Bass used to have (still have). You see how any real emotion (mostly either amusement or annoyance) shows up in her eyes only around Bass, because of Bass.

And you see how _Bass_ is around her, how he looks at her.

He hadn’t touched her, they said. Maybe not in _that_ way. But in some much more significant one. In a way his son never will.

Charlie might not even realize it. Or she won’t admit it. She’s a Matheson after all, so much like you. And there’s so much past and complication there – how can she? Not that you would want her to. Hell, you’d kill Bass if they ever actually…

Except that you wouldn’t. If it made her happy, you would overlook even the fact that it’s Bass. (Maybe because Bass is just as much you as he’s Bass, so if it can’t be you…)

Yeah, that’s fucked up.

You gulp and take another swig.

You shouldn’t be thinking so much. It makes nothing better. All it does is that now you feel even shittier, your heart – it seems you still have it – breaking.

Because the thing that hurts the most is knowing that it’s not only you, but she as well, who’s settling for second worst.  

**Author's Note:**

> So, on Tuesday I felt like crap and I somehow crawled inside Miles’ head and came out with this. What do you think? Good? Bad?
> 
> Unbeta'd, so tell me if you see something. Comments are always welcome.


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